


Mornin' Cas

by AllTheseMaps



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, M/M, but very little of it, during season 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:37:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5771602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheseMaps/pseuds/AllTheseMaps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas never gets what he wants. Every time something good happens it's over within a month and he just moves on. Just accepts it like he always has.<br/>Given the choice however, he's not too sure he wants that to happen this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mornin' Cas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Charmedwho20](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Charmedwho20).



> Why can't Cas have nice things? He deserves nice things.
> 
>  
> 
> Birthday gift for Charmedwho20!  
> Hope you like it.

“Mornin' Cas.”

Cas groggily tried to open his eyes at familiar voice, but failed miserably and instead only managed a weak yawn. The bed was much too warm to bother getting up just yet, and he was unwilling to abandon the soft duvet. He didn’t really remember going to sleep but there was no force in heaven or hell that could possibly budge him.

“Come on Mr. Comatose, I made you pancakes.”

Well, maybe pancakes could.

Finally managing to prise his eyes open, Cas felt his breath catch in his throat as the room swam into view. This wasn’t the storage room he'd taken to sleep in, nor was it in the bunker, with its cold stone walls and slightly ominous patches of damp on the ceiling, and gone was the constant smell of rust that Sam’s constant burning of incense could never quite mask. This room was different. High wooden beams stretched up above him, guarding a pointed loft, the white walls pristine and undamaged by damp or mould, and the earthy smell of dust and grass baked dry by the summer sun enveloped him where he lay. Soft yellow light stretched through the high windows to his left and spilt over the ruffled bedsheets, and he stared around in awe. He didn’t know this place in the slightest, had never had the pleasure of seeing anything so perfect, yet he felt like he’d lived there his whole life.

A soft laugh nearby jolted him from his thoughts and Dean suddenly stepped into his field of vision, grinning ear to ear, eyes sparkling, and Cas couldn’t help but stare. He’d never seen him so radiant.

“I haven’t seen that look in a while. I missed it,” he grinned, gently setting a tray down on Cas’ lap “You look blissed out.”

There were around a dozen soft pancakes piled high, glistening with sugar and accompanied by a cup of what he immediately recognised as Earl Grey tea, and perhaps most surprisingly, a single daffodil balanced precariously in a chipped drinking glass.

Dean must have noticed his confusion as he grinned sheepishly, running a hand mindlessly through his hair.

“Couldn’t find a vase. You’ve used them all.”

Cas didn’t really process this as his mind raced. He didn’t understand. Why was Dean making him breakfast in bed? He’d only seen that kind of thing in the handful of rom-coms Sam had forced him to watch.

“Dean,” he muttered “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

“Well I’m _trying_ to be romantic,” he laughed, taking a seat near Cas’ feet “I know it doesn’t happen often, but I thought it’d be pretty obvious.” 

_Romantic_ . This couldn’t be happening, this could never happen. It was impossible. 

“Thank you Dean,” Cas managed, masking his confusion behind what he hoped was a convincing smile “It’s perfect.”

Dean smiled back and stood, stretching, before heading for the door.

“I’ve got work this morning, should be back by three if Bobby lets me go. He can be a right ass sometimes,” he laughed as he tugged on the old leather jacket Cas hadn’t seen in years “Making me work on my anniversary.”

Before Cas could respond in further confusion, the latter sentence having had the same effect as having his heart torn through his chest, Dean had leaned over and pressed a hurried kiss to his cheek before leaving. Cas sat in shock for a few long seconds, but could feel himself practically glowing and he hurriedly tried quash his confusion by wolfing down his plate of pancakes.

-

The rest of the house was beautiful, the sandy wooden floors and pastel walls mirrored in every other room as in his bedroom. Well. Their bedroom apparently, but he wouldn’t allow himself to think about that. It just caused him to grin uncontrollably and that was quite unnerving. However, he didn’t find himself caring as much as he knew he should. This was what he’d been dreaming of for so many years and he finally had it and he didn’t really care through what circumstances he had it. From what he’d managed to piece together by rooting through all the photo albums and letters scattered throughout the house, he and Dean had met in a bar. This had triggered an unsettling fit of laughing as it was just so ridiculously normal, such a cliché, textbook first meeting, so different from the torturous pits of hell which had been their original meeting place. They had moved here around a year ago, away from where all of their friends and family were still living in Lawrence. Dean had found work at Bobby’s garage- an old, incredibly normal family friend, rather than the gruff hunter he’d known- and Cas had taken up a job at the local library. A great deal of this he’d pieced together from the diary he’d found tucked away at the bottom of his wardrobe. He hadn’t noticed it had been his handwriting as he’d been so engrossed in reading about this alternate life he’d led with Dean. 

_Dean_ . 

Cas gave a small smile at the thought him, this alternate version. The version who had managed to avoid all the grisly years he’d spent as a hunter, all the times they’d been torn away from each other now non-existent. He hadn’t died, he hadn’t gone to hell, hadn’t been forced into an endless spiral of self-loathing fuelled by drink. He was content if his brief encounter that morning and the countless photographs dotted around the house were anything to go by. Cas already had a favourite one. He’d found it on the mantelpiece, nestled between a vase of lilacs and an old radio. It was a family photo, echoing of a similar one taken before their storm of that small town in an effort to destroy Lucifer. A photo that had been burned years ago, and one which he still missed. 

This one however was very definitely not burnt, but was treasured, and filled with faces he thought he’d never get to see again. He and Dean took centre frame, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, smiling widely into the camera. Sam was to Deans left, not looking at the camera, but smile still noticeably bright as he appeared to be tugging a blonde woman into frame, her face equally aglow. Though they’d never met, Cas was without a doubt that this was Jessica. Behind them, fighting for space in the frame, were a myriad of friends and family, past and present. Kevin, Charlie, Jo, Ellen, Bobby- even Anna and Balthazar were trying to prise themselves into the shot. Countless others he barely recognised littered the frame, but was sure they must have just been other spectacularly normal people they’d met here. How they’d all found each other in this reality, he didn’t care. He just ached for the fact he hadn’t been there to encounter them.

Setting the frame carefully back in its place, he decided to step outside for some fresh air, as he’d seen nothing but open fields as he’d glanced through the windows whilst searching curiously through the house. Stepping onto the splintering porch, he wasn’t disappointed.

Past the patch of grass their small house was nestled in, were golden wheat fields. They stretched every which way, as far as the eye could see, rippling is the slight late summer breeze, causing fragments of the dried stalks to float up and litter the otherwise flawlessly blue sky. The only interruption in the endless spread of wheat was the single dirt track winding up to the house, baked dry by the sun, but with an endless array of different tyre tracks etched into the ground from rainier days. Amongst them the familiar tracks of the Impala were still discernible, more frequent than any other set, adding to the strange familiarity of the whole place. As he began to follow the track further away from the house, passing underneath the shadows speckling the ground from the few trees surrounding their house, he laid eyes on another small expanse of grass placed haphazardly amongst the wheat, a tiny tumbledown barn at its centre, and he made his way toward it. 

As he got closer, a soft buzzing seemed to fill the air around him. He was immediately reminded of something other-him had written in his diary and he didn’t hesitate in running the rest of the way. He’d learnt the hard way that he couldn’t fly here either when he’d decided he couldn’t be bothered to walk down the stairs.

Throwing open the door his face split into yet another grin as he gazed around the barn, the buzzing now louder as he took in the sight of around twenty beehives dotted throughout it. A constant lazy stream of bees was arriving and departing from each one, floating in and out of the open back of the barn. Cas wove throughout the hives, not bothering to try and avoid the bees as they hazily bumped into him, knowing they wouldn’t do anything as he’d read they were harmless. Nailed to the front of each hive were small plaques and Cas crouched down to read the nearest one. It read ‘Queen: Jo’. He didn’t understand so, scowling slightly, he read the next one. This one read ‘Queen: Anna’. Then it suddenly clicked and he caught himself breathing a laugh. Other-Cas had named the queens of each hive after one of his friends. Dean would probably have called him a dork for that. Dean kept calling him a dork back home, and though he still didn’t really understand what it meant, why it would be any different here he had no clue.

Back home.

Cas grimaced at the thought of it.

It may have been all he’d ever known- blood and angelic civil war and a version of Dean that didn’t love him back- but he was beginning to feel more and more that he didn’t belong there. That he belonged here, living in his tiny house filled with this version of Dean, whiling away the rest of his time taking care of his bees and going to work at a normal human job. He'd be without the constant worry that maybe he’d never see Dean again, or waking up every morning wondering if that day would be his last. He’d had his life ripped apart, ended and then sewn back together so many times, he didn’t know if he’d be ready to give up one where everything was stable and happy. Given the choice, he would take this reality over the other in a heartbeat.

-

Making his way back into the house, he poured himself a glass of lemonade he’d found in the fridge, and continued through into the living room. It was a clear clash of their personalities, alternate selves or not, as vinyl records of old rock bands lined the walls, interspersed with cheesy photographs of both themselves  and the bees which Cas had the feeling he’d taken. Not that he hadn’t noticed the boxsets of ‘Doctor Sexy’ dotted about, but he’d decided to ignore those. He wasn’t much of a fan in any reality. His phone ringing suddenly jolted him from his musings, almost causing him to drop his drink before he managed to answer it.

“Cas!” Jo immediately squealed down the line “Happy anniversary!”

Cas found himself suddenly speechless, hearing her voice after she’d been dead so long. Not only that but he realised he still didn’t know enough about this reality to hold a conversation with anyone who’d fully experienced it, but managed to stutter a meek thanks. 

She didn’t seem to notice.

“Time sure does fly huh?” she laughed “Five whole years it’s been and I still can’t get my head around it. How the hell did you manage to get stuck with someone before me? I’m irresistible.”

“What?” Cas asked, confused.

 “I’ll ignore that,” Jo laughed “I just wanted to say congratulations! That’s a long time to not get bored of someone.”

“Um-“

“Anyways, got to go. I’m still at work but just wanted to check in. Have fun! Don’t get too drunk and don’t make it too sappy. You guys aren’t sappy. Don’t ruin it,” she warned “Happy anniversary!”

“Thank you Jo,” Cas stated, still confused before her words actually hit him.

Then she hung up. He barely managed to switch off the phone before he collapsed onto the sofa near the fireplace, consumed by a mix of unbridled joy and horror. This was more than he could have hoped for, more than he ever thought would be possible. They’d been together five years. As far as Cas knew, Dean had never been with someone for more than one, and even then they didn’t remember it. Other than that, he seemed to be pretty happy with his whole ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’ mantra. But this wasn’t true here. Granted, five years was almost nothing to him. It could pass in the blink of an eye and he’d barely notice, but it was so much more for Dean. It was still a significant part of his life and he’d chosen to spend it with _him_. 

He took a steady breath, hauling himself back to his feet and running a worried hand through his unkempt hair. It _shouldn’t_ have been possible. For the first time that day he suddenly found himself doubting his decision to stay. He knew what was going on. Of course he knew this couldn’t really be happening. This was all too good to be true and he knew why, he’d just elected to ignore the recent memories that had been creeping back throughout the day. On top of that, he felt guilt beginning to pull at him. 

This Dean didn’t love _him_. This Dean loved the other him. The version he’d met in a bar five years ago that day, the version who’d made the decision to move to this house so he could keep bees, the version that was dorky enough to work in a library and name his bees and keep photos of the people he cared about all over his house. The version he was mimicking based on a few diary entries and letters he’d only read that morning. He was definitely not that person. He was someone who’d been to hell and back, led a civil war against his own family and won, been thrown between being an angel and being human and been destroyed as both to protect a version of Dean much gruffer than this one. And someone who would definitely never work in a library.

As if on cue, the sound of an engine purred to a halt outside and Cas instantly collected himself. He may have only met this Dean once, but he acknowledged that he was selfish enough to go through with this. He wanted to be happy once more before he left.

The door clicked open and barely a few seconds later, before he had the chance to turn around, Dean had wrapped his arms around his waist and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Hey Cas,” he murmured “How’s it going?”

Cas couldn’t focus on coming up with something other than that he’d just had a minor crisis and was planning on leaving as soon as this was over, so he just hummed nonchalantly and redirected the question to Dean. He immediately started reeling off the list of cars he’d been tinkering with and customers he’d dealt with, but Cas could only think of the scent of oil and sawdust that stuck to his skin and the gentle pressure of Deans arms still wound around his waist. He eventually trailed off and untangled himself from Cas -who dryly noted how unwelcome his absence was- and announced he was going for a quick shower before dinner. He’d ordered food on the way home apparently and it would be there soon.

As soon as Dean’s footsteps had faded into another part of the house and he heard the shower start faintly, Cas made his way to the kitchen. The array of photographs and the brightly coloured utensils planted around now seemed more bittersweet considering what he was planning. He opened a few drawers before finding the cutlery and began sorting through the knives. He finally laid hands on one small enough to easily conceal in his jacket, having donned his usual suit and coat after finding them collecting dust in the wardrobe. It was definitely sharp enough, but the tiny moose delicately engraved on the handle made him feel sick, knowing something so delicate wouldn’t fit with this gruesome act. 

The doorbell jolted him from his spiralling and he quickly answered it, and was greeted by a teenager holding two pizza boxes. Cas took them and went back to pay, taking some money from by the door, but was informed they’d already been paid for before they scuttled off.

“Come on Cas, you didn’t think I’d make you pay for your own anniversary meal did you?” Dean suddenly piped up from behind him.

Cas couldn’t help but smile at this, as it was exactly the kind of thing he was expecting, and he continued to be surprised as Dean took his hand and, with food held in the other, led him through the front door and onto the grass outside. There he sat down, dragging Cas with him, and immediately dug into the pizza from the first box. This was distinctly more Dean and Cas smiled before tucking into his own. The smell of pizza mingled with whatever aftershave Dean was wearing and the sweet smell of the grass they were sitting on and Cas knew he’d want to remember this. He glanced to Dean, mouth full of pizza, and had to restrain himself from leaning over and hugging him. He looked exactly as he usually did, a plaid shirt over a plain t-shirt and ripped jeans, hair artfully mussed, freckles strewn across his face obvious even under his unshaven scruff, but he looked so much happier. His actions weren’t weary and he had smiled more in just the past hour than Cas had seen in the past few months. Dean glanced over to him as he thought this and grinned though his pizza, causing Cas to snort out a laugh. Dean immediately scowled good-naturedly and gave him a strong nudge, to which Cas retaliated by shoving him with a little more force, causing him to fall to the side with a startled huff.

They didn’t do much else for a while, opting for just enjoying each other’s company as the sun slowly began to sink over the ears of wheat and the sky began to bleed from blue to soft shades of pink and red. Only when the crickets began to come alive from within the grass and the last few strands of sunlight etched deep crimson into the darkening sky did Dean finally speak up.

“Um, well, it’s been five years,” he murmured, taking Cas’ hand in his “that’s quite a while.”

“Yes it is Dean,” Cas stated warmly, not having the heart to be quite as literal as usual.

“And I- I know I don’t do all this chick-flick crap often enough, and sometimes I can be a dick, but thanks for sticking by me,” Dean sighed.

Cas didn’t respond, knowing what was coming and wanting to ward it off as long as he could.

“And I know we’ve had rough patches, hell, everyone does, but you are one of the best things that could possibly have happened to me -“

Cas couldn’t contain himself any longer as he rounded on Dean, enveloping him in a tight hug. Dean froze for a few seconds before reciprocating the hug just as tightly.

“Love you Cas,” Dean murmured into his shoulder. 

Cas screwed his eyes shut. He just had to do this, just had to see Deans face when he replied. He could remember it when he went back to his Dean.

“I love you too Dean.”

He then immediately pulled away, just in time to see Deans face break into the brightest smile he’d ever seen and he felt a pang of guilt as he reached into his jacket and grasped the hilt of the knife.

“And I’m sorry.”

Confusion flashed across Dean’s face for a brief second before he laid eyes on the knife and his expression switched to horror.

Cas barely flinched as he plunged the knife into his chest, and didn’t care when the entire landscape surrounding him immediately faded to black. He’d much rather go home to his Dean.

 

-

-

 

"Cas? Cas, buddy, come on, you alright?”

Dean’s panicked voice was the first thing to hit him, followed swiftly by a searing pain in his arms from where his weight was dragging down on them. He didn’t pay attention to any of it though as he spluttered back into proper consciousness, prising his eyes open, a question immediately on his tongue.

“Did you kill the djinn?”

He heard Dean sigh in relief, vision still not quite good enough to make him out in the dark room.

“Yeah, yeah I killed it.”

He tried to pull himself away from the ropes but they just dug painfully into his wrists and a sharp stinging erupted in his forearm from where the IV must have been torn away. Dean hurriedly grabbed the rope and began slicing at it, actions stilted in his hurry to get through them. Cas could only have been there a few hours but lethargy gripped him as he stumbled and fell when the ropes finally gave way despite Dean trying to catch him. His breathe hitched as he hit the ground and the warehouse came into full focus. It was damp and almost pitch black, save only for the torch Dean was carrying and he tried not to breathe in the flakes of rust peppering the ground as he struggled to stand again. After a second or two Dean hauled him to his feet and, hooking an arm under his, began to drag him towards the exit.

“Dean-“ Cas began but was immediately interrupted.

“Wait ‘til we get to the car,” Dean huffed, quickening their pace as much as he could considering he was supporting Cas’ weight entirely.

-

It took them much longer than it should have done to get to the Impala but Cas was relieved when he finally got the chance to curl up in the passenger seat, Dean next to him trying to bandage his arm. They’d remained in silence for a while, though Cas suspected that was more down to his weariness than anything else, but that didn’t stop him from worrying he’d done something wrong.

“There,” Dean stated, relinquishing his grip on Cas’ arm “Good as new.”

“Thank you Dean,” Cas muttered, pulling his arm to his chest, ignoring the slight twinge the action caused.

Dean didn’t reply as he started the car and Cas focused on the soft stuttering of the engine in order to keep his mind from straying back to the other Dean. There was nothing he could do to go back there now, so there was little point in dwelling on him.

“Didn’t think I’d find you here,” his Dean mentioned offhandedly “Good thing I did, but I wasn’t looking for you.”

Cas tried not take the dismissive tone to heart but failed.

“Were there no other victims?”

“None I could help.”

They descended back into silence and Cas was less sure this one was down the weariness. He glanced through the windows as they pulled onto a road, the headlight beams illuminating endless rows of wheat from the fields it ran through and he looked away at the sickening feeling it caused him. He instead pulled his knees up to rest underneath his chin and closed his eyes. He felt underwhelmed at being in full control of his body again, riddled with scars and aches, all unpleasant human sensations again taking refuge in it. Hunger was the first he was alerted to as he remembered he hadn’t eaten in a while, not since he’d left the Gas n’ Sip the previous evening.

“We’ll stop for food on the way back. We’re a while from the bunker,” Dean yawned, reaching for the flask on the dashboard and taking a swig.

“You made me leave the bunker Dean,” Cas stated coldly as his more recent memories from this reality flooded back.

Dean swallowed uncomfortably.

“Right. I’ll drop you home then.”

“I don’t have one.”

Dean coughed and took another drink from his flask before opting for silence again. Cas bitterly began to wish he’d never found him.

-

They didn’t speak again until Dean asked him his order at some drive-thru on the side of the highway they were travelling on, and then again sat in silence until the parked up further along to eat their food. Cas barely paid heed to him as he wolfed down two and a half burgers in as many minutes and as such was not prepared when Dean began speaking to him.

“So what’d you wish for?” he asked almost sheepishly.

Dean waited patiently whilst Cas tried to prevent himself from choking to death on his food in his rush to answer.

“What do you mean?” he finally managed.

“From the djinn, what’d you wish for?” Dean asked again, this time more reluctant.

“Oh.”

He wasn’t expecting that. Whilst Dean was sometimes insensitive when it came to being invasive, it didn’t occur to him that he’d actually _ask_. After all, it was much more personal than Dean ever seemed to be comfortable with. He apparently latched onto this and immediately backtracked.

“You don’t have to say, I was just wondering. Like, you’re an angel, what could you possibly-“

“I’m very much human at the moment Dean.”

“I know. I don’t know what I was thinking asking you anyway,” Dean laughed uncomfortably “You’d probably just want to go back to being an angel right?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Infinite burgers?”

“No.”

“A decent car? Nicer job?”

“No.”

Dean sighed, exasperated at his refusal to cooperate. Cas would have found it humorous had he actually been willing to give him the real answer.

“You’ll have to give me more to work with Cas. I can’t keep guessing.”

Cas sniffed and hurriedly tried to come up with a convincing lie, but struggled to find one that wasn’t ridiculous.

“My wish is to live in my perfect version of reality,” he finally gave in, continuing in a rush to explain himself “All others seem pointless. There would inevitably be flaws no matter the wish, as none would work paired with the reality we live in. So I have one without such flaws.”

Cas prepared himself for laughter at his admission but was instead met with another question.

“How the hell did you manage to leave that behind?” Dean asked solemnly “You came too just before I killed it. So you left on your own.”

“I don’t know,” he deadpanned, because he really didn’t.

He’d willingly managed to tear himself away from everything he’d ever wanted and he never would have considered himself strong enough to do that.

“That’s badass,” Dean admitted, starting the car again and pulling away “I remember mine. It was complete crap looking back so I had no problem, but you must have had a hell of a time getting away from yours.”

Cas allowed himself a small smile at the slight praise but braced himself for the slew of questions that were sure to follow. He’d only mention the aspects he could leave Dean out of. He wasn’t going to admit anything that would make him uncomfortable. He knew first-hand the effect it had on Dean when someone suggested they were romantically involved. The stream of comments they’d received over the years, from bars through to the motels they stayed in, both scathing and offhanded, had all met the same response from him. He didn’t want to be the cause of it.

“So, what’s your reality look like huh?”

“I worked in a library.”

“Really?” Dean snorted before Cas cast a glare his way and he continued more carefully.

“So you lived a pretty normal life. Wouldn’t have guessed. Anything else?”

“I lived on a farm and kept bees.”

Dean glanced over quickly at that and Cas was sure he just imagined the softness of his expression.

“Sounds nice. Anyone there I know?”

“A few,” Cas sighed “Sam, Jo, Ellen, Bobby-”

“Sam huh?” Dean stated, and that definitely wasn’t hurt Cas heard in his voice “What was he like?”

“He seemed happy.”

Dean sniffed at that and again reached for his flask. Cas scowled and snatched it from him before he could take a drink.

“And you, Dean, did not have a drinking problem,” he spat before realising what he’d admitted.

Dean was staring at him with a mixture of indignant annoyance at his outburst and uncontrollable joy. Cas placed the flask back quickly and turned to stare at the road ahead. Why Dean had looked overjoyed at his existence in Cas’ subconscious was beyond him but he wasn’t going to give away anything suggesting at their involvement.

“So was I happy too?” Dean asked hopefully after a few seconds of trying to compose himself in the corner of Cas’ vision.

“You were, yes,” Cas stated and couldn’t help but continue “You were very happy.”

He allowed himself a glance over to measure the effect of this but froze as he locked eyes with Dean, who had apparently been planning the same. He looked almost radiant, grin wide, the periodic flashes of light as they drove under streetlamps illuminating his expression and Cas was mesmerised as he seemed to grow so painfully close to his alternate version. Dean was the first to glance away, but only to check the road as his grin didn’t seem to fade. Cas could barely contain a matching grin and let himself to wonder.

Maybe Dean _wouldn’t_ hate him if he bought it up.

Dean seemed to beat him to it.

“How’d we meet?”

“In a bar.”

“I thought I didn’t have a drinking problem?” Dean laughed, shoving Cas lightly and he had to resist the urge to shove him back.

“And when’d that happen?” he pushed, but Cas didn’t answer immediately “Come on Cas, I want to know what other me got up to.”

Cas braced himself for immediate rejection- and the possibility of being forced from the car- before answering.

“Five years ago today. It was. Um.”

Dean stayed silent, prompting him to continue but Cas could already feel a tenser atmosphere taking hold.

“I was our anniversary.”

The breaks were immediately slammed on and he was thankful he’d already been gripping onto the seat for dear life as he lurched forward, his seatbelt digging sharply into his stomach. Luckily for them the road was also completely empty so there was plenty of time for Cas to feel sickened by his actions without the risk of getting hit by another car.

Dean was breathing heavily next to him and he didn’t want to hazard a glance.

“So, so we were-“ Dean spluttered, voice much more lacking in venom than he had expected.

Cas barely noted this however as he tried to grasp at a way to salvage the conversation, pushing down the wave of guilt he felt at forcing Dean through this situation.

“I’m sorry Dean,” he stated as calmly as he could manage, “I didn’t mean to-“

“We were together?” Dean interrupted fretfully.

He finally looked over and shrunk towards the door at the sight of Dean sitting still, shoulders squared, face stony and hands clutching the wheel until his knuckles shone white. They clearly weren't going to be driving anywhere anytime soon.

“I’ll walk the remainder of the way,” Cas mumbled “Thank you Dean.”

He unclipped his seatbelt, taking a few seconds to get a grip on it due to the slight tremor in his hands, and quietly clicked the door open before Dean grabbed roughly at his arm and yanked him back. He waited patiently for him to speak, shame cementing him to his seat as Dean seemed to be struggling to string a sentence together.

“So in your perfect reality,” he began hesitantly “we were together. Together together. As in ‘hello honey, how was your day’ together? For five years?”

“You never said that.”

“That’s not the point.”

“But yes, we were together.”

Dean breathed a light laugh and Cas tried to appear stoic despite the fact that was the last thing he expected to happen.

“And you didn’t get sick of me?” he asked carefully.

“No.”

“Well. Five years,” he murmured, clenching his hand at his side “that’s quite a while.”

“Yes it is Dean,” Cas stated curiously, still waiting to be thrown from the car.

“But why? I’m such a dick Cas, why would you-” he sighed, shoulders slumping “I’m no good at this chick-flick crap.”

He didn’t respond, but clicked the door closed again, confusion growing as he didn’t think this was how the conversation would pan out at all.

“You seriously stuck by me for that long?” Dean asked, finally turning to face him.

“Yes.”

Dean’s eyes lit up fractionally at his answer before his face closed off again and he restarted the car. Cas stared his way for a few seconds longer, trying to decipher anything from his expression but, finding nothing, turned his eyes back to the road ahead. The streetlamps continued to create stripes of weak light across the hood of the Impala, their methodical fading in and out of existence beginning to take their toll on Cas as he started to doze off. The only things that grounded him to consciousness were his dwindling sense of shame and the quiet playing of some generic rock tape of Deans, the same song on a constant loop as they drove in silence.

However, just as Cas was sure he was about to fall asleep and hit his head on the dashboard, he was woken slightly by a warm hand taking his. He glanced wearily up to Dean in surprise, who in turn was repeatedly glancing both at him and their linked hands, a small smile playing at his mouth. Cas gave his hand a slight squeeze and smiled softly at Dean in return. He was hardly the happiest he’d ever seen him, due to them both practically falling asleep where they sat, but the look he received in return was enough to stop his frets of any rejection.

“Don’t tell Sam about this,” Dean stated “I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Cas snorted a laugh and Dean flushed slightly, grinning sheepishly.

“I would never do that,” Cas stated seriously before being interrupted by a yawn “Goodnight Dean"

He gave Dean’s hand a final squeeze before allowing himself to finally drift off, just after he got a reply.

“Night Cas.”

**Author's Note:**

> Right, please feel free to point out literally anything I have wrong concerning canon as I haven't actually gotten to season 9 yet. I just wanted Cas to be human and happy. Happy is key considering season 11 comes back today and it doesn't exactly look great for him. Hope you enjoyed!  
> Comments would be greatly appreciated :)


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